


Tales of Middle Earth

by Ealirel_Yllaven (Ealirel)



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anyways, Caring Thranduil, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Good Parent Thranduil, Helethiel Yllaven - Freeform, How Do I Tag, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I just really love Legolas and Thranduil as a healthy family, I'm Sorry Tolkien, Moria | Khazad-dûm, OC insert, Old Age, Protective Thranduil, Quenya, Reincarnation, Sindarin, The Noldor, The Sindar, Third Age, This Is STUPID, Thranduil's A+ Parenting, Time Travel, because in the books she is not mentioned to be dead, im going off track, there is an old woman, thranduil's wife is alive, tolkien's elves, youll see why that's important later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:21:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25825825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ealirel/pseuds/Ealirel_Yllaven
Summary: Helen was satisfied with her life, ready to close her eyes for the last time and fall into a never ending dreamless sleep — the Valar it seemed, had different plans.Now she must face a dangerous future as she stumbles upon the Fellowship of the Ring and has to fight to gain their trust. Unknowing of how things go during the war, having never touched a sword, Helen must learn to protect herself, to stay alive, for she can not rely on the weary members to keep her safe until the end of time.
Relationships: Aragorn | Estel/Arwen Undómiel, Thranduil/Thranduil's Wife
Comments: 9
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to say there will likely be no romance in this story but what is already canon in Tolkien's works. If, however, this turns out to be longer than a single chapter, the main character will fall in love with another oc.  
> This is not exactly a reader insert, but I guess you may be able to read it as such.  
> The main character's real name is not the one she calls herself - but you'll see that later ;)

Most of my life I spent longing for the sea. I could not understand it though I had certainly grown quite old.

At ninety-three years old I had accepted the steady approach of my passing.

Sunny mornings were spent surrounded by my children, grandchildren, and eventually great-grandchildren. Their bright, blue eyes shone as I told them stories of my youth and braided their soft, pale locks of silver hair. Little button noses wrinkled by pulled faces as I'd lay warm-hearted kisses along their unblemished skin.

Walking was hard, my back ached and my ankles swelled with each step I took assisted by a thin walking stick. My hairs have long since greyed, though never fully whitened. Its original golden-brown youth worn by the drawn out, gentle years of my life.

My late husband had been a kind, loving man. Our children took after him in looks and character alike. His eyes shone just as brightly as the little Angels surrounding me. In his youth, his hair had been golden and shiny, and before he drew his last breath, it had faded to a shade of fresh snow.

I had outlived him by what felt like a bitter eternity.

When I awoke, my mind drifted to songs of my childhood and youth some 60 years ago. Oh, how strange it was indeed, that my heart failed to let them go. My children hardly felt such a sentiment towards them, for they would not he born for decades after the release of elvish songs and dwarfish laments.

I felt at peace. Outside the birds chirped with the early sunrise.

This time, I had no strength in my frail body to lift myself from the comforts of my bed.

All was fine in life. My youngest great-grandchild had been accepted into the secondary school of her choice, while the oldest just finished it, entering university with a scholarship come fall once again.

The cool winds drifted in from the open window, sunlight kissing my wrinkled skin and pulling me back to sleep.

And it was a sleep from which I knew, I shall not wake once more.

Falling, it felt like I was falling freely with nothing to stop me. The ache in my bones faded to a dull, tingling sensation. It felt as if I was slowly aging backwards. There was a whisper in a strange tongue which I could not understand, or perhaps it was not saying anything - yet I felt as though someone was talking to me still, reassuring me that all would be fine.

I lost control of my mind and my body felt like it no longer existed at all.


	2. To These Memories I Will Hold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not proofread

The grass was green underneath my naked feet. What I was doing in the mountains, I did not know.

A sudden light had blinded me and before long, I found myself in a foreign land. There was no great city behind the hills, no cruel smokes of murderous factories. It was an unending, dreamy lands of untouched earth.

I looked around, nothing large rocks and a forest nearby. All was silent. No birds sang, no insects flew by.

My eyes closed, and I touched my face gently; my skin felt young once again. Confusion clouded my mind. My night clothes had been changed into a delicate, white dress that brushed the ground. Small, sparkling stones and jewels decorated the silk as it fluttered about in the wind.

It was not summer, but maybe early spring.

A cruel, enraged sound pierced the silence of the day. Something was coming from the forest.

Surprised by my own strength, I hurried across the plain, open fields and hid behind the rocks, worry eating away at my heart. This must all be a dream, that is all it was, for one does age backwards into youth in the mere blink of an eye.

My lungs ached, unused to such movement from my weary body, yet I felt born anew.

Something pounded against the earth, something large — it was not alone. I heard the shout of a man, ordering another, but to do what, I could not make out.

The thick leaves parted, and the most horrifying, monstrous being ran out, followed by smaller, more human looking ones—yes, they were human. But what were these monsters? In my heart, I felt I should know them, yet no name came to mind that could fit such ugly beasts.

It seemed they were enemies, the humans and these foul beings. A fair-haired youth was handling a bow and shooting arrows in a way I had never seen before. As a child I had taken up archery as a hobby, but with old age I was forced to give it up, along most straining sport that I did once in my youth.

Every time he shot one of them, the most gruesome sound left its mouth.

Engrossed in the battle, I did not notice a creature approaching me from behind until it was almost too late – I heard my own scream almost as an outsider. A voice that did not belong to me – yet came from my own throat called for help.

“There’s an elf behind the boulder!” A gruff voice yelled.

The long dress proved to be in my way, so I grabbed it and pulled it up to my knees and ducked under the monster’s legs as it lifted its scarred arms to strike me with his sword. It stood stunned until it realised what I had done, then it turned to me, his back now facing the battle and began to give chase. As I ran, dry bits of grass, twigs, and rocks pressed into my feet, likely damaging the skin there.

Behind us, the battle quieted down as the last beast was defeated.

I was far enough that I had time to grab a large rock from the ground. With it grasped tightly in my hands, I faced the being. Fear choked me, but I knew I must do something if I did not wish to face a most painful downfall. With all my might, I pulled my arm back and aimed for its head. The rock left my grasp, and I watched in satisfaction as it hit its target. Then, I heard the unmistakeable sound of a released bowstring and the memories of my childhood came rushing back to me, a strong wave of nostalgia taking a hold of my frail heart.

The beast collapsed.

“Are you alright?” the young male was standing in front of me seconds later. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

“I’m alright,” I smiled faintly. “Thank you, dear.”

His many companions caught up with him. Some little folk watched me in wonder, and a gruff, wide little man, a bit taller than them, eyed me warily. “And who may you be, eh, lass?”

Unable to help myself, I chuckled quietly. “I see my presence surprises you, but believe me, dear, I am much more surprised that you are of what I have just witnessed unfold here.”

“Why does it surprise you, my lady?” A dark-haired man questioned. “Are you here against your will?”

I thought for a moment. “I found myself here suddenly, though it feels like moments ago I was at home still. It is a most curious thing, really.”

Their clothing was worn, their bodies dirtied by mud, and the dark blood of these beings. My explanation seemed to raise doubts in their minds.

“What’s your name?” A young looking, light haired little man asked curiously. “It must be really pretty –”

Raising my eyebrows, I paused halfway with a nod. “You flatter me, dear. My name –”

My mind wandered for a second, though it felt a great deal longer than that as I realised, either this was reality, or a lucid dream. “My name is Helethiel.”

“I don’t believe we’ve met before.” The tall, bow-wielder mused quietly. “You are not from Mirkwood.”

“I’m sorry,” I breathed. “Someone shouted about an elf just before this, this creature charged at me. What did you mean by that?”

There was a moment of tense silence. The gruff voice sounded again, which I now recognised as the short warrior’s, who had a braided beard of deep ginger hairs. “I meant you. You are an elf, after all – unless you have forgotten. Maybe you elves lose your minds with your old age, I don’t know. You certainly live far too long.”

“What may your name be?” I leaned down to see his eyes better.

He puffed his chest out proudly. “Gimli, son of Gloin.”

As my suspicions were confirmed, I allowed a delighted smile to break across my features. “So, it is you! How marvellous. You must be Prince Legolas then, if I am not mistaken.”

The blond elf nodded slowly; his eyebrows furrowed. “I am. This is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. That is Boromir – and the hobbits are Merry, Pippin, Frodo, and Sam. And of course, Gandalf the Grey.”

A childlike delight filled my soul upon his words. I felt young again. “I have not lived very long yet, Master Dwarf.”

“No? How old are yeh, then?”

Smoothing down my dress, I corrected my posture. “I am just shy of ninety-four.”

At this, not only the dwarf, who I knew to be no older than 140, but also the elven prince stiffened.

So, I was an elf in this dream. Unknowingly, my hand sneaked up to my ear, fingertips lightly touching the point of my ear. Indeed, it was real. It felt realer than a dream.

“You are ninety-three,” Legolas whispered to himself softly. “Yet you speak as if you lived centuries on this earth.”

“I often feel so, my dear.” I knew I could not fool anyone, for I had such little knowledge left on elves, that I could not name their homes, only recognize their names. “Perhaps for the reason that I grew up not with my own kind, and my age is considered rather old by those of my home.”

“You grew around men, Lady Helethiel?” Aragorn asked. “How so?”

“I was but 50 when my dear parents left this world,” I began. “I do not know their reasons, for they never told me, but even before their passing, I knew no elf.”

After a few more words, the ranger suggested we moved on before nightfall, for they had a long road ahead of them. A road, that even with my own faded memory, I knew to be full of grief for them. I was afraid to say anything, for Gandalf wore grey clothing still, and Boromir had not yet fallen. In my heart I knew it unrealistic, that all members of the fellowship shall survive; yet I felt, with this knowledge, that I might do something to stop it.

Their kindness, I shall never forget. Weary, but I accepted their offer to travel alongside the fellowship. They did not trust me yet, I could tell. No word of the ring was uttered, and young Frodo, when he thought I was not looking, stole worried glances at me, discontent that I was not walking alongside them. Boromir was the same. He walked up front, murmuring to Aragorn. The winds were so harsh, even my newfound hearing did not pick up his words.

I longed for a mirror, to see myself now.


	3. A Battle of Heart and Mind

Our Last Good-bye

Weary still when morning came, the Fellowship set out once more.

I knew nothing of where we were going, all I knew, is the original road which the Fellowship was to travel on had been changed and we were now heading some place that unsettled Legolas slightly, but left mostly no impression on Boromir and Aragorn.

They spoke of no names in my presence. The ranger and those who planned would slip away while I was left to sit with the hobbits and the dwarf, though even they would sometimes slip away, in which case I would speak with Gandalf, though sometimes also my fellow elf.

"Excuse me," a soft voice spoke up from somewhere behind me.

I turned my head, tucking a thin braid behind my ear. "Yes?"

"Did you really live amongst men all your life?" Pippin asked gently.

Slowing, I fell into step with the hobbit. "I did, my dear. I know nothing of my own kind beyond what they knew."

Legolas was the only one behind us now; he appeared to be listening though he tried not to show it.

"What was it like?" Pippin smiled, curiously peeking up at my face.

I thought back to my life before and wrapped my arms around myself. "It was heaven on earth. I had a family – thought they were all of mankind. I was considered the youngest children's great-grandmother. There were two of them. The older one had already chosen a lover, though they were not yet married."

"Why did you leave?" Merry questioned suddenly, so I turned to face him instead.

"I know not what happened to me, love." Watching the leaves floating with the wind, I ran my fingertips over the rough bark of an ancient tree. "I awoke in the field you found me."

The two young hobbits frowned, eyes turning sad. "Do you miss it? Your family?"

"Of course, my dear. I miss them every day and I pray for their well-being. I believe they miss me too." Touching my own cheek gingerly and willed the burning behind my eyes to go away — my lips trembled, so I closed them tightly.

Pippin sniffled gently, wiping his nose on his sleeve discreetly. "I believe they do. They won't ever forget someone like yourself, lady Helethiel, of that I am sure."

"What tales do they tell there?" Sam asked suddenly — he was just as distant, if not more, as Frodo.

I had not noticed his presence until he spoke. "They told of a great journey and an elven king. The stories brought to life a dragon and thirteen dwarves and one very special hobbit. Some sixty years ago, I believe. I am not sure if it is true, but–"

"Dwarves, you say?" Gimli piped up; his interest has been caught. "What of dwarves do you know, eh?"

"Not much, master dwarf," I patted his head. "But a song which sings of Durin and Misty Mountains. I do know the tale of Thorin and Smaug, it was just what I was going to talk about."

"Thorin, you say!" He said hastily, his chest rising proudly. "My father was there!"

"Indeed, he was," Legolas replied.

Gimli turned to the elf. "How would you know, eh?"

Legolas' eyes shone with mischief. "I was there too."

Slipping away from the beginning bickering, I walked to the front of the group where Frodo and Gandalf whispered with Aragorn. Upon my arrival, they stopped and nodded to me.

I returned the nod and walked alongside the wizard, gazing around fondly. The sun was high up in the sky, though its warm rays were a welcome caress in the chilly air. The day was yet young.

My bare feet sunk into the ground, tickled by grass as I walked.

"Were you there too, Gandalf dear?" I inquired, willing my face to relax and show nothing but wonder.

The grey wizard hummed. "Was I where, young lady?"

"With Thorin and Bilbo."

"I feel you know more than you let on," Gandalf murmured as we distanced ourselves a little. This was something I did not wish to do, but I had no control over it.

So, I shrugged. "I might. But believe me, dearie, I know far less than I wish to."

Gandalf said nothing.

Behind me I could still hear Gimli's rough voice and Legolas' gentle speech. Boromir had joined the hobbits and I was left to my thoughts, so I closed my eyes and recalled songs I knew to be from this world.

" _Lay down_ ," I whispered in song, " _your sweet and weary head_."

Gradually, all noise around me stopped. I was lost in my own world, enjoying the clarity music brought me. My throat was not accustomed to singing, though only I felt it resist the long, drawn out sounds. I noticed nothing around me but the callings of nature and the songs of birds.

"Why do the white gulls call?" I sang softly, swaying with the wind and distancing myself slightly from the others, unaware of curious eyes. "Across the sea, a pale moon rises, the ships have come to carry you home."

"Across the sea, a pale moon rises, the ships have come to carry you home." Music lessons from my childhood and adolescence aided me in delivering a song so dear to my heart and only now did I come to understand the words. "And all will turn to silver glass. A light on the water, grey ships pass into the west."

Nobody said a word and our journey forth was silent.

Just before sundown we stopped by a river to wash up and rest before venturing deep into the forest for cover and setting up camp for the night. My curiosity grew with each step we took nearing the sparkling white water. The gently flowing water proved to be the only mirror that I could find, yet I did not mind. My appearance was once more that of my youthful self, though my ears were pointed, if not as much as the young prince's. My hair fell down my back in gentle ringlets, a mix of brown and gold, appearing black in the night, but warm as the earth in the sun. My features softened somewhat, my eyes brighter, clearer than before but I still resembled myself greatly.

During my childhood and youth most people I met would complement my face, my beauty, never my knowledge or accomplishments.

I sunk my hand into the water, watching as a group of tiny fish raced past.

My feet ached from the prolonged hours we spent walking. The only rest I got was the time I spent hiding high up in a tree as my companions fought orcs. Somehow, none minded that I could not protect myself, and yet somehow, in a most peculiar way, they seemed to value me for my own strengths, though I did not know what they saw in me.

Slowly, the oldness of my previous life faded from my body's memory, my muscles ceased sticking to my bones and slowing me down, I regained the strength of my teenage years, if not even those of my childhood. I stood firmer, and though the ache in my heels held me back, it reminded me of my adolescence, the hot summers I spent with my family, walking down the streets of Rome, my feet burning – or the hours spent strolling in Cambridge and Oxford, mesmerized by the wonders I saw there. It brought back the bittersweet feeling of being locked up for many months on end thanks to a disease that would not wish to pass.

My Heart Lies with You

Frodo did not trust me still, though we have been on the road for a week. I understood it to be a time too short to form any true friendship, so I settled for asking about his health, and laying a gentle hand on his head from time to time. The other's, especially Merry and Pippin warmed up to me soon, for which I was grateful. The dwarf, Gimli, kept his distance, though I received the same playful comments as Legolas and so I shrugged it off and deemed it due to cultural difference. Aragorn and Boromir spoke with me from time to time, though the two men kept to themselves mostly, somewhat like lone wolves.

My main companion therefore became the humorous wizard, Gandalf the Grey.

The weather was turning colder, my feet felt frozen, the flowers I saw no longer blossomed — it was not spring, nor summer, as I had originally believed, but fall.

"Can you control fire, Gandalf?" I asked one morning as we set out again, walking amongst trees that seemed to whisper amongst themselves. "Or is that not what a wizard does?"

Grey eyes twinkled. "There are many things a wizard can do indeed, Lady Helethiel."

Behind those eyes, there was something that made me believe he suspected something – a thing which the others did not quite dare to imagine, but he said nothing. I respected Gandalf if nothing else. Sometimes, when I was most at ease, I saw him watching my every move closely. It was clear that I did not walk with the usual grace expected of elves, nor did I think the same. It was not a lie that I grew up with the kind of men, though it was not the whole truth either.   
I was, perhaps, twice born. It seemed a good enough explanation. Maybe it was the Valar's plan all along. Mankind did not fall in my time, but it was standing on thin ice.

The only thing I regretted, was not reading the books more carefully. It would have helped me greatly along the way— surely, I could understand elves better, for I now was one too.

I did not object when Boromir pulled a flower from the ground, tearing it apart petal by petal; Legolas had cringed somewhat, but did not comment. I did not close my eyes, when Aragorn hunted down wild rabbits or deer, to mourn, though it broke my heart to eat their meat. I did not forsake meat previously, but now it upset my stomach.

Nothing aided me, I had but a small bag — it was lovely, made of leather. I could not tell if the making were of man or elf, nor did I dare check what was inside for fear it would give away my origins. Still, nobody told me secrets, so I comforted myself that I did not need to tell anyone anything either.

Perhaps, when darkness falls tonight, I might check what is inside. A river nearby would have been nice for nobody was with me when I washed up. Only Legolas would stand some ways away, back turned towards me to keep watch lest some beast jumped out of the trees.

Once more, I tried to make small talk with our dear wizard.

"Do you believe," I asked during a particularly quiet moment, "that if one truly wished for something they could not obtain in this life, they'd come to live it in their next one?"

Gandalf's expression cooled, he fiddled with his beard, then met my eyes, his usual twinkle resurfacing to hide his slight annoyance. "I do not know for certain, but I reckon there might be some truth to it."

"What is that silly elf talking about now?" Gimli grumbled, walking past us, breath coming out in short puffs of air. "Next life! What is something you cannot get without a bit of hard work!"

"Nothing you need to worry about, Gimli son of Gloin," Legolas piped up, smirking faintly much to the dwarf's dismay.

The two began their usual little quarrel, oblivious to the other's around them.

"Are we very far still?" I wondered aloud softly, halting my steps and touching a tree gently, feeling something akin to a heartbeat under my fingers.

Aragorn stood next to me. "Merely a few more days until we arrive." The ranger glanced down out my feet. "I believe we might be able to find you some shoes there, though not as elegant —"

I waved him off. "Elegance or not, one must be grateful, if only for a pair of shoes. Don't you worry, my love, I do not much care for beauty in this moment."

And it was true, though it pained me some; I knew to be glad and happy even in times of need.

"Wise words, lady Helethiel," Aragorn hummed and we began walking once more.

My dress caught on a branch; I tugged it free.

"Where is this place we are going?" The question slipped before I could halt myself. "Why is it so important that we get there if the road is such a difficult one?"

There was a moment of silence as I met Frodo's wary eyes, but he turned away as quickly as he had looked.

"It is but a short stop before we carry on." Gandalf placed a hand on my shoulder. "Nothing you should worry about."

"When you say that, I cannot help but worry, my dear." My throat tightened.

I knew of the dangers that lay ahead of us though my memory was faded. If there truly was a demon we might meet, which, so far seemed likely, I felt I might fall myself, and I felt the journey was only just beginning.

Legolas, who spent most of his time walking behind us, now came to stand next to us. The fellowship all stood together.

"It is a place I would not go," he spoke, "but it has become something I cannot escape. I'm sure once you see it, you will understand and likely feel the same way."

"It is a noble place!" Gimli rasped heatedly.

"You are all secretive," I said finally, wringing my fingers behind my back "I feel you do not trust me, though I must trust you with my life. "

The days of distrust were beginning to weigh down on me. I bit my tongue and said nothing, but I feared for my own life despite the help. More than once, I barely managed to scurry to safety.

"I trust you!" Pippin insisted. "We _all_ do!"

Merry frowned slightly at him but said nothing, only placed a hand on the hobbit's shoulder.

"I do not feel it, my young friend. My heart tells me you do not understand me, nor do you try. I know it is not my place to ask this of you, but you allowed me to join you on this journey and it made me hope to find companionship amongst you yet now, more than ever I feel truly alone."

"You think too hard, Lady Helethiel," Gandalf smiled. "We hold nothing against you, we only worry about our task. All of us have lived through great torment since we left our homes, some more than others—" here, he glanced at Frodo, and the dark-haired hobbit turned his gaze towards the ground in front of his hairy little feet. "I'm afraid, we are all wary."

Feeling foolish, but having long since learnt the importance of communication, I did not back down. "I am afraid I do know what you are doing, you do not have to speak it–"

Boromir tensed, grasping the hilt of his sword. "How did you find out?"

Legolas eyed him, lips but a thin line. The Sindar prince had looked out for me beyond any of the others. I believed it to be caused by our shared blood – if we shared any at all. I knew nothing of elves, not even their heritage or characteristics still.

Unsure what to say, for I did not wish to die, I swallowed and shook my head.

Legolas, pretty as a young tree, stepped in front of me to shield me from the man of Gondor. It seemed he was the only one on my side, trusting. The elf eyes Boromir, daring him to draw his sword. The other fighters of the group did not move – the young hobbits grasped onto one another, eyes wide and filling steadily with fear.

Gimli blinked, as he usually would, quick and calculating before speaking in a raised voice. “Step away from her, lad. You only protect her because she is an elf. We cannot know her true intentions.”

Exhaling, I placed a hand on Legolas’ shoulder from behind and sidestepped him, dark hair swaying in the wind, wild and untamed, as were my emotions. “I assure you, I know not the full extent of your intentions, but you cannot think me foolish enough, that I do not understand this evil which lingers in the air day and night, tainting the heart.”

“Do you feel its pull, lady Helethiel?” Gandalf inquired, frowning deeply.  
“Does it whisper to you too?” Boromir sneered. “Do you want to take it and keep it for yourself, _elf_?”

“I do not,” I whispered. “for it fills me with dread to be near it, or even think of it. I do not know what god there might be out there, but I feel it is looking out for me.”

“What do you mean, lady Helethiel?” A timid voice questioned, stepping nearer.

I turned to Frodo, smiling as kindly as I could through the nerves. “I hold no desire to lay eyes upon the ring, my dear. I wish it gone, never to taint any soul again. This is something I feel not many have been graced with, and for that I am grateful for this.”

“You do not want to use it?” Frodo probed, voice but a whistle on the wind.

“No, my love. It is but the last thing I could ever want.”

“Let go of your sword, Boromir,” Aragorn ordered, grim and weary. “We must move on if we wish to find cover before nightfall.”

Then, without a word more, we began walking once more. I felt eyes on me, a great unease settled in my bones. I could not tell who was watching me. I was scared. Looking around, I stared into the trees, watching, listening, but to my dismay, my right ear was just as useless as it had been in my previous life – perhaps, a strange thought filled my head, I was a reincarnation of myself.

An hour into our journey, I remember the eyes of an elf, so I slowed to walk alongside Legolas, who accepted my company gladly, smiling my way in a way only a brother could. He was taller than I, so talking in his ear was difficult, though I managed. I voiced my question, to which he nodded, and stared far ahead; he appeared unseeing, then, without another word, he rushed up to the front to Aragorn and Boromir, mouthing something to them.

Gandalf must have understood at once too, for he turned to face me and smiled kindly, nodding in approval. In the next second, his face turned grim and I knew at once I had been right.

Someone was there who did not think kindly of us – possibly a group of orcs.

Legolas returned to my side and lead me a few steps away.  
“You must climb up this tree, as high as you can and make no noise. I give you one of my swords, in case you might need it, though I hope you will not. We will walk a little further ahead, so no arrow may fly your way. Stay safe. When it is over, I shall come and collect you.”

With the weapon in my hand, I nodded. Legolas did not wait for me to climb to safety, he turned and marched back to the rest of the group.

The night was quiet; I hurried to reach as high as I could, eyes burning with tears of fear – as it always did when the possibility of a battle came – and my heart hammered against my ribs, threatening to break free from the cage in which it was kept. My hair kept hitting against my face, so I pulled out the fabric I used to braid a small section by the side of my face and hurriedly tied all of it at the nape of my neck, keeping it safely behind my back. It was much too long, but I had not the heart to cut it.

Then I heard it. A fight had begun. There were shouts, yells, and inhuman screams, shrieks filled the cool, night air. I held on tighter, thankful that the branches were thick and rough, easy to hold onto. My throat tightened and breathing was no longer natural.

The sounds of thundering steps were heard. A twig snapped underneath the tree I was in.

I held my breath and peered down. There, underneath me stood a single orc. He appeared to be searching, sniffing the air. I covered my mouth to minimise the sound I made grasped the sword tighter. If I had to, I could jump down and hopefully be the one to win the fight – but it might alert other orcs.

The orc looked up suddenly. One of its eyes were missing, in its place only a burnt socket. It did not seem like he was created this way. My eyes met his and his face contorted into a cruel smirk.

“Fresh meat,” he breathed loudly, sharp teeth shining in the moonlight. Slowly, as if toying with me, he grabbed an arrow and positioned his bow.

Swallowing, I tensed and prepared for the moment he would let the arrow fly. It seemed ages before he finally let go, and as soon as he had, I jumped from the tree, sword in both hands, aiming for the top of his head.

To my greatest shock, the pale blade slid right through his skull, a nasty scream tingling in my ear. My clothes became splattered with blood, dark, thick liquid and as the life left his body, we fell to the ground.

Frightened, I let go and tried to land on my feet, but my foot caught in a large rock and I fell to my knees, bruising them instantly form the long fall. Dazed, I kneeled there, eyes wide and staring into the lifeless face of the monster who attacked me.

“Helethiel!” Aragorn shouted, running up to me. “Are you injured?”

Breathing hard, I shook my head and slowly, afraid something might attack me again, I stood on shaky legs. “I’m alright.”

Gradually, the rest of the fellowship arrived. Legolas came over to my side instantly, and searched my face, eyeing the blood on my cheeks and hands. “Are you hurt?”

Mutely, I shook my head. My dress had torn, one sleeve almost completely gone, the other reaching only me elbow, the rest of the fabric swaying gently on a branch high above our heads.

“Are you – your hand is bleeding.”

“Must be from the rock.”

Confusion clear in his features, Legolas looked around for the rock I was talking about.

“That one.” I gestured. “I slipped and landed on it I think.”

“What happened?” Aragorn questioned. “Did it see you?”

“I was in the tree, but I believe it could smell me for suddenly I was the target of an arrow—”  
“It’s there! It got caught in your dress.” Legolas leaned down and carefully pulled the arrow from the long fabric of my skirt. “You’re are lucky, it is poisoned. Had it pierced your skin you would not be standing right now.”

“We must move on,” Gandalf insisted. “Before any more show up. We are not far from Moria, just a day’s walk.”

“The hobbits need to rest, Gandalf, they can hardly walk on. They’re tired.” Aragorn adjusted his clothes, gesturing at the four exhausted halflings. They did appear to be swaying, barely able to stand straight, but they put on brave faces in front of the rest of the fellowship.

The grey wizard nodded. “Still, we cannot linger. We will set up camp somewhere else.”2

Thus, we carried on. Legolas retrieved his sword and cleaned the blade as we walked. The young prince lent me his cloak, for his clothing was fine but mine ruined. The night was silent, no birds chirped, no owls hooted. Not even the song of crickets filled the silence, only our hard breathing until we settled down on the cold hard ground. The hobbits fell asleep right away, followed shortly by Gimli and Boromir, even Gandalf appeared to be sleeping. Everyone, but Aragorn and Legolas. They were talking, quiet puffs of air in the dead of night.

I closed my eyes, but sleep did not come, instead, I chose to listen to their words instead. The cloak’s hood was pulled over my face, for I did not yet master which way elves were supposed to sleep, though sometimes, during the day I felt myself ease into a strange trance of sorts, resting my weary mind for little bits of time.

“It must have been quite a fall,” a soft voice whispered. “It would hurt even an elf.”

“I am surprised she did not complain. I saw bruises on her legs and arms,” another added tiredly. “Where do you think she belongs?”

A heavy pause filled the air. “Her hair is dark. She might be of the Teleri, or the Noldor, like Lord Elrond. It seems she might become a great warrior with training, but she sang of the sea. There are contradictions.”

“Do you think she might feel a longing for it, my friend? The sea,” Aragorn whispered. “It seemed but an ordinary song.”

“She is still young,” Legolas answered, “but she spoke of great loneliness. It is possible. Rest now, I will keep watch tonight.”


	4. The Truth Comes Second

The Blood in Your Veins

Morning came.

The blood of the orc on my clothing dried, hardening the fabric. It clung to my skin, rubbing against it uncomfortably and reddening it with irritation.   
I had not slept, least, I think I did not. I hardly closed my eyes again these past nights, yet somehow, I was not tired. Not mentally at least.  
After some hours of walking, we came across a clearing with a small river. I stood by the woods as the fellowship washed up, poking winter’s flowers and plants with my toes, surprised that my feet were not as filthy as everyone else’s seemed to be. It must have had something to do with elves, I decided.

“We have finished,” Legolas announced as he stopped to stand next to me, now pristine clean and cheerful as ever. He held out a fair hand to me. “I will keep watch. The others will find food.”

Nodding, I handed him his robe, which seemed more mine than it did his now, and thanked him. Once he turned his back, I stepped into the water, drawing my dress up to my knees. It was freezing but it hardly bothered me.

My curiosity no longer lay dormant, it hit me with full force, so I grabbed my bag and opened it. It was the size of a large book, though it was thin and wide. Inside, I came across a hardback with a deep brown cover. On it, there was no writing. Keeping that inside, I looked further. A small knife was in the interior too, just the size of my hand, which was nothing large. Next to it, there was a small brown pouch, but it would have made noise to open, so I left it alone lest I alert Legolas and he find something that was not supposed to be there. The book, though I itched to know its secrets, I could not open for the time being. I knew the journey had just begun, so I decided to leave it until we arrive in Lothlorien. There, I figured, I’d be safe in a room they might allow me to stay in and I’d be able to read a bit – unless it was elvish, then, I was afraid it was not possible. 

The small knife, I decided, was perfect to even out my sleeves a bit – this meant I must cut the other one off completely, for the branches had taken one of my sleeves clean off. I pulled my dress off slowly, left in nothing but my underclothes now and placed my bag on the shore. To my surprise, the fabric lost its taint easily, getting back its white shine as I worked along the stains.

Not wanting to waste too much time, I filled my jug with water and paused. I had never washed my dress before.

“Legolas dear, would you be so kind as to bring the robe over?” I called to the elf.

Legolas hummed something. “Can I turn around, or would you prefer I did not?”

“I would prefer you did not turn, my dear,” I said, inching closer to the edge of the water. I should have at least left my underclothes on the shore, as I normally would. I did not know however, that they did not get stained with blood, so I went ahead and washed them too. Now, I realized, I had nothing to wear.

Embarrassed, I thanked Legolas and wrapped myself up in his cloak. It was a special make, for it kept me warm even in the chill of the early winter wind.

We began walking once more. I entertained myself by chatting with the Mirkwood prince, prodding about elf culture and wishing to keep him talking. Normally, he did not talk much, when he did however, his voice was soft and full of joy. The blond elf was always cheerful, ready to take on the world and will it to bow before his feet – but that in the most soothing manner. Now though, he had questions of his own.

“What did you parents look like?” He whispered once the fellowship walked a little ahead. “Was their hair dark like yours? It might help us find out where you are from.”

Thinking back, I smiled at a memory of my dear parents and grandparents. They were elf-like in their own ways. Mostly on my father’s side of the family, though my mother was shockingly beautiful in her youth as well.

“My mother had bright blue eyes, and what was most peculiar was the yellow rings around her pupils,” I answered. “Her hair was darker than my own. I take after my father and look more like my grandmother than I do my mother. Most of my family had blue eyes, those who did not got it from somewhere else, you see. Someone who married in.”

“What about your father?” Legolas asked as we began to climb up a hill, nearing a mountain. “You have his hair and eyes?”

“I do not know whose eyes I have,” I replied. “They are unique amongst my cousins, aunts, or uncles. But my hair is of my father. You see, both sides of my family had the occasional person whose hair was as red as the sunset.”

Then came a question I had dreaded and sent my heart falling to my stomach like a bag of rocks for I did not think of such things.

“What were their names, if I may ask?” Legolas smiled and his pale eyes filled with curiosity beyond what I have seen.

“Merildor was my father’s name,” I murmured, staring far ahead, imagining a face I had never seen before, yet was oh so familiar to me. “Uirel was my mother’s.”

Legolas paused. “Those are Sindar names,” he announced proudly. “You are then of Teleri descend, as are most of the Sindar elves.”

“And what are the Teleri?” I asked.

“There are many different types of elves, it would take too long to explain. You mention red hair, but that is not common, yet the name of your parents…” He trailed off quietly and stared ahead, watching the area for any signs of trouble.

I decided then, that our conversation had come to an end. My dress, in the time spent talking, had finally dried, so with some help – Legolas had held the cloak up, shielding me as I dressed, then we hurried on. 

The fellowship grew weary as we moved, the hobbits seemed exhausted. Aragorn and Boromir did not complain, nor did anyone else as we climbed, trying to locate the gates to Moria.

A fight awakened in my heart – should I tell them what lies beyond the gate? We had arrived too soon in a way, I could not stand a chance, I knew already I could not save Gandalf, not without giving myself away, which seemed a sure way to break everyone’s trust in me.

The fellowship talked amongst themselves, but I could not bring myself to contribute in any way. My ears were ringing and only one sentence kept replaying itself in my head: “Speak friend and enter.”

A World So Doomed

The road up the mountain was not an easy one, but I prided myself on the fact that I did not slip, nor did I injure my blistering feet. Next to the dark, wet stone, water splashed gently.

"Speak, friend," Gandalf mused by the gate, leaning against his staff. "And enter."

The hobbits, except for Frodo, were hardly paying attention to this, but Aragorn, Boromir, Gimli, Legolas, and I focused on nothing else. The word was on the tip of my tongue - an intense need to be important, helpful – I still remembered this one, though fear kept my mouth shut, only my heart beat wildly in my chest, feeling so little and so guilty.

Gandalf tried repeatedly to open it but failed. He sat on a large rock, put off and upset, though he attempted to hide most of it. I dare say he almost succeeded had he not let his lips curl down so much.

"What is the elvish word for friend?" Frodo asked quietly, to which the great wizard paused, eyes widening in realization.

"Mellon," he breathed.

The glowing of the gate did not cease as the large boulder opened up, allowing as entry.

From the water, I heard a sound and frowned, turning to face it. Something told me to hurry along, but I could not help it-unmoving, I just stared ahead into the darkness until a firm hand grasped my arm.

"Come on, elfling, we must get moving into the great city of dwarves," Gimli announced, some form of fondness in his eyes directed my way that I had never seen before.

The dwarf led me into the mountain, chest swelling until it no longer was. The proud smile slowly vanished and any boast still on the tip of his tongue stayed unspoken.

We moved along slowly, watching the scene around us. Cobwebs covered everything, weapons lay on the ground, untouched for however many long years. The great dwarf next to me visibly shook - whether in grief of anger, it was not clear. Slowly, after much careful climbing, we made it to a room in just the same state as the great halls, ruined.

The skeletal figures lying along the ground were no longer the great warriors they had been before. Their bodies faded, life leaving their beings long before we got here, perhaps even before I had arrived in this strange world.

Many long halls were passed by us silently, stunned beyond belief. Empty stares from lifeless eyes – if eyes at all for they were only sockets. My only way of helping was to stick to Gimli’s side, holding his shoulder; he did not protest.

"What happened here?" A timid whisper broke the stunned silence of the fellowship.

Gandalf turned to Pippin sadly, and he held no hope in his eyes anymore.  
Gimli, son of Gloin rushed forward, stopping by the large tomb in the centre of the room and fell to his knees with a heartbroken cry.

"Here lies Balin, son of Fundin, lord of Moria," Gandalf read aloud. "It's as I feared."

"We mustn't linger," Legolas said slowly, to which Aragon nodded, but Gandalf did not seem to notice. He simply picked up a thick, damaged book from the lap of a skeleton, blowing away the dust which had come to rest upon it over the years.

Boromir placed a comforting hand on Gimli's shoulder, showing he was there without a single word leaving his chapped lips.

Once more, Gandalf began reading aloud.  
"We cannot get out. We cannot get out. They have taken the bridge and Second Hall. Frár and Lóni and Náli fell there bravely while the rest retreated to Mazarbul. We still hold the chamber but hope is fading now. Óin's party went five days ago but today only four returned. The pool is up to the wall at West-gate. The Watcher in the Water took Óin -- we cannot get out. The end comes soon. We hear drums, drums in the deep."

A loud crash broke the solemn muteness. Gandalf turned at once, eyes wide with fury.  
"Fool of a Took! Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity!"

The blond hobbit cringed, face contorting into an expression of emotional anguish as the wizard leaned above him, eyes full of thunder and lightning; he grabbed his hat and shaft from Pippin’s trembling hands.

Horrid sounds came from beyond the open door. I knew them to be orcs. My heart dropped to my stomach. Grasping the sword Legolas had lent me, I stepped back, flattening myself against the wall in fright.

“Close the gate!” Aragorn yelled and grabbed an axe from the ground.

Boromir followed close behind him, doing just the same. Then, without a second further wasted, they ran back from it and stood in the middle of the room as harsh banging shook the old wooden doors. A bit of wood was broken through at eye level; Legolas fired an arrow right away, hitting whatever was behind it.

It did not help much, for the door gave out a mere second later and orcs flooded into the room, excited and crazed for blood.

I longed to hide, perhaps crouch behind the tomb, but I did not for fear I might not notice a beast sneaking up on me. Instead, I held my head high and with shaking hands, readied myself for battle. I was stood so far back, that it took a bit of time until the orcs reached me, but when they did, it was only with the help of Gimli that I was pulled from my frozen shock and began to slice blindly at anything that came too close – anything that was not a member of the fellowship.

Dark blood splattered on my cheeks as I hit the first orc and stabbed it straight through the face. It shrieked a horrible sound and fell to the ground, twitching madly. I did not have time to stare in disgust, for another came at me from the side, aiming for my head, wishing to hack it from my body.

Barely, but I managed to block the blow, holding the sword with both hands. I stepped aside, creating some distance and then throwing myself at it, blade pulled back by my side as I had seen Aragorn do before, then extending my arm and pushing the sword into the hard, unarmoured stomach of the orc. It fell and took the sword with it.

Time was not my friend. A large beast, almost as tall as the walls itself broke into the room, enraged.

Swallowing, I looked around hurried for anything that could help me survive. I spotted a sword and grasped its dusty hilt, freeing it from the cobwebs. It was much heavier than the elven blade, almost too heavy, but the adrenaline in my thin body was pumping so hard, it did not matter.

When a smaller, more vicious beast came to slice my flesh, I scream and swung the knife hard, detaching the morbid head from grey shoulders. Some steps away the large beast fell to the ground mutely as the last orc was slain.

“We must move on,” Gandalf ordered, grabbing Frodo by the shoulder and leading him. “Quickly!”

“The sword—” I stuttered, looking towards the body in which it was trapped.

Legolas grasped my arm and tugged me from the room. “Leave it, you have another.”

“It is—It is much too heavy,” I yelped, frightened to the point of tears.

“Hurry, I hear something coming!” Aragorn yelled, turning his worried gaze towards us.

Our path was soon blocked by many foul beings. They were not orcs, for they were smaller and moved differently.

“Goblins,” Gandalf whispered in disbelief, he turned, intending to go back the way we came, but found that thousands of these beings were rounding on us, some on the ground, though many crawling along walls, covering them fully. We had nowhere to run.

Legolas pulled me behind him, and I found myself standing with the hobbits as Gandalf, Boromir, Aragorn and Gimli stood in a circle around us, shielding us. It felt but a futile effort, but it comforted me nonetheless. Just a few steps more and they will reach us – I clenched my eyes shut as terror froze my body.

But the goblins froze just as I had, then scurried away as though frightened.

Merry and Pippin let out relieved sighs, but it was short lived, for something lit up the dark halls, orange, like burning fire. Legolas’ ready bow faltered as he lowered his bow.

Gandalf shouted once more. “Run!”

Wasting no time, we all continued, dashing along the way which we had planned to go before the goblins surrounded us. My heart ached, pounding painfully against my ribs; my lungs were burning, and my legs felt like jelly as we rushed along the strange, tall stairs that seemed to lead down into nothing.

Feet skidded to a halt as a large gaping hole stood where the stairs were supposed to go on, leaving some distance unwalkable – still, Legolas jumped over it easily, turning to face us and telling us to follow.

Bewildered, I stood rooted to the spot. “I can’t,” I whispered.

“You can and you will,” Boromir growled in my ear and grabbed me around my waist, tossing me over after Gandalf had successfully jumped over the hole himself.

I could not stop the shriek that left my throat, ringing in my ears and causing the blond elven prince to wince as he caught me, stopping me from toppling over. Legolas was the one to stop Gimli from falling to his death as well, yanking him up by his beard.

The steps fell, tearing down and leaving a gap so large, no man or elf could jump over it and make it to the other side. Aragorn and Frodo were still on the other side. Boulders fell form above us, destroying the stairs further until they began leaning to the side with a rusty cry as stone crumbled.

I turned away, unable to look as the ranger and the hobbit balanced on the falling stairs.

“They will make it,” someone whispered near me, but in my dread, I could not tell who it was.

The ground shook underneath our feet as the stone staircases bashed against one another and Aragorn and Frodo successfully were reunited with us once more. We could waste no time, we had to move on for the ground was crumbling underneath our feet.

“Over the bridge!” Gandalf cried as he guided us, sword pointed ahead.

He stayed behind as we ran past, turning back to face what was chasing us, causing unbearable heat to choke us. Fire was burning the road we just passed and as I glanced back, I saw a most monstrous face and heard the darkest growl.

A Sudden Good-bye

“ _Fly, you fools_!” Gandalf cried as he was yanked under, falling into darkness with the demon-like creature.

“No!” Frodo screamed, held back by Boromir’s strong arms.

Stunned, once again I found myself standing dumbly, unseeing and wide-eyed. It was then that I decided, this world was just not for me, I was not at home here – this was but a horrid nightmare, worse than any before. I had seen death before, it was no stranger to me, but one so violent I never expected to fall witness to.

Someone yanked me along until we finally broke out of the mountains and into fresh night air.

The drums, drums beating – that was the beast which had claimed Gandalf’s life.

Knowing he would return did not dull the pain. I dared not open my mouth as I dropped the dwarf-made sword to the ground and let my knees buckle from underneath me, unseeing, unhearing, much like everyone else.

“We must carry on, we cannot stay,” Aragorn snapped, looking around.

Boromir jumped to his feat in rage. “Can you not see them?!” He gestured to the hobbits, chilled to the bone with grief. “How can you expect them to move on in such a state?”

“A time to grieve will come, Boromir, but this is not it. Danger is too close, we cannot linger.” With these words, Aragorn left no room for argument and so I got to my feet, leaving the sword on the ground, knowing it to be useless from here on forth.

We must make our way to Lothlorien.

I had hoped we would all go there, that Gandalf would not leave us here, for I knew if he had indeed stayed, the fellowship would not have broken. Though Gandalf will come back, it shall not be the same.

“Come, my dear.” I nudged Sam, placing a hand on his shoulder in the only way I could ever attempt to offer comfort.

The walk was silent, nobody spoke. I walked alone, distancing myself and silently berating myself for not warning Gandalf of the dangers – perhaps I had hoped the balrog would not act the same as was written; it did.

Days passed once more, but our quietness was not broken. It seemed everyone was affected, some more than others. Legolas was caught off guard, utterly confused for the time being for the had not yet witnessed death in this way. Pippin seemed guilty, perhaps thinking this was all his fault while Merry, Sam and Frodo all seemed just a bit more broken than before. Aragorn kept a hard face, but beneath his guarded eyes I could sense terrible sadness – Boromir was the same.

I knew all my emotions showed on my face clear as day, so it was no surprise when Legolas attempted comforting me despite needing comfort himself. His fair face gave away little of what he was truly feeling.

We arrived at a forest. It was darker than in the plain fields we just ran across though it was not yet nightfall.

“Stay closer, hobbits—” Gimli said in a hushed whisper, gesturing for Frodo and Sam to step closer to him. “I fear a great sorceress lives in these woods – and elf witch of terrible power.”

As he walked, axe raised, his eyes kept darting around, searching for anything to protect the others from.

I turned my gaze to Frodo, searching his face – when he furrowed his brows in concealed fright, I turned away and placed my palm against a tree, closing my eyes.

“All who look upon her, fall under her spell,” Gimli whispered.

Shivering, I bit my lip. How will I be able to hide my origins from such a powerful being? She would see right through me, there was no way she would not – unless she deemed me less than important.

“Well,” grunted Gimli. “Here’s one dwarf she won’t ensnare so easily. Eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox—!”

Hearing as his breath caught in his throat, I opened my eyes only to stare right into a pointed arrow. Caught off guard by the suddenness of it all, I lost my footing and stumbled forwards. The elf who had pointed the arrow at me quickly stepped back to spear my eye from being poked right out while another standing nearby kneeled beside me, asking something that I could not understand.

Bewildered, I opened my mouth, gaping mutely and shaking my head to indicate that I did not understand. Nevertheless, the warrior helped me get to my feet and all weapons were lowered.

A blond elf was about to say something though it appeared as thought I had stunned him with my sudden fall that whatever proud retort he was bound to say got stuck in his throat, which he cleared and stared questioningly at our little fellowship.

Soon, Legolas was talking with the blond elf who I now recognized to be Haldir, then Haldir was talking, mentioning names of the members as he recognized some.

“Speak words we can all understand!” Gimli hissed, blinking quickly.

I frowned, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Calm down, Gimli. Nothing is wrong, my dear.”

“We had not had dealings with the dwarves since the dark days,” Haldir murmured, staring down at Gimli.

“You know what this dwarf says to that—” The dwarf began saying heatedly, but realizing what was bound to happen, I slapped a hand over his face to cover his mouth, successfully muffling his much less than kind words of taunting.

From the corner of my eye I noticed Aragorn rolling his eyes, but frowning and turning to look at me, somewhat caught off guard. The ranger sent me a silent smile, nodding once.

“Do not be rude,” I grunted, letting him go.

Gimli did not seem pleased, I however, was running out of patience. I stepped up to Haldir, bowing slightly in the manner I had seen Legolas and Aragorn do. “We wish to speak with Lady Galadriel.”

Haldir studied my face, lips curling down. “You bring great evil with you.”   
His eyes turned to Frodo, then, as he made up his mind, he stood firmer. “You can go no further.”

Sighing, I shook my head. “Listen, my dear. Frodo carries a heavy burden, and it has now become heavier. Something terrible has happened, a great loss, it is affecting us all and it is of upmost importance. If we cannot pass, the ring will not be destroyed, but the world will be. Do you wish for that to hang down on your shoulders until the end of all eternity?”

Haldir stiffened, furrowing his brows. For a moment he just stood there, staring me down before his shoulders slumped. “I feel there is no use arguing with you. I do not recognize you, what is your name?”

Flushing, I stepped back and lowered my head. “My apologies. I have been told I come on too strong at time. My name is Helethiel.”

“Well then, Helethiel, you may move on but only on one condition. The dwarf needs to be blind-folded—”

“Then so shall we all.” I turned to face the others, who stared on in surprise, but nodded along to my words non the less. “Gimli is our friend; he is a member of the fellowship. He deserves the same respect as any of us. If that is none, so be it.”

The elven march warden sighed, looking uneasy at the thought of blindfolding a prince.  
“You will follow me,” he said finally.

We walked along a trail, turning many times both left and right, climbing up or walking down – unbalanced, I held the shoulder of Legolas, who walked before me, to keep myself upright and not fall down once more, embarrassing myself further.

I felt a bit of pride for having stepped up and achieved that we could pass through the woods, though my own words kept repeating themselves in my head, ringing in my ears and making me turn a deep shade of red. Never have I ever done such a thing, for I was naturally quiet and uncomplaining. I could not accept however, that someone might stand in our way. Gandalf’s death had left a deep hole in my chest where my heart was supposed to be and hardened me greatly.

After weeks spent in Middle Earth, I had come to accept that this was not just a dream – no dream could ever be this long – but my new reality.

“Caras Galadhon, the heart of elvendom on earth.” Our blindfolds were removed and we could see a great big kingdom of sorts – trees, tall trees forming a home across the horizon.

The Lady of Light

“The enemy knows you have entered here. What hope you had of secrecy is now gone,” a deep voice said.

Mesmerized by their beauty, I hardly understood what Celeborn said.

“Tell me, where is Gandalf, for I much desire to speak with him,” he continued as Lady Galadriel took turns studying the faces of each fellowship member. “I no longer see him from afar.”

“Gandalf the grey did not pass the borders of this land,” Lady Galadriel spoke, her voice but a whisper in the wind. “He was fallen to shadow.”

Celeborn slowly turned to face her, stunned into silence.

Legolas stared solemnly at the lady of light. “He was taken by shadow and flame. A balrog of Morgoth.”

Gimli lowered his gaze to the ground in sadness at the mentions of Moria, making no sound.

“Needles were none of the deeds of Gandalf though life. We do not yet know his true purpose.” She faced Gimli then. “Do not let the great emptiness of Khazad-dûm fill your heart, Gimli, son of Gloin. For the world has grown full of peril and in all lands, love is now mingled with grief.”

Boromir’s quiet gasped sobs filled the room as the lady of light watched him carefully through her speech.

I swallowed nervously, willing the knot in my throat to leave though it wished not to do so, choking me and forcing me to clear my throat, forcing myself to keep staring intently at the ground, refusing to meet the lady’s eyes.

"What now becomes of this Fellowship? Without Gandalf, hope is lost,” Lord Celeborn hummed.

Lady Galadriel stared ahead as thought seeing through the walls. “The Quest stands upon the edge of a knife. Stray but a little, and it will fail, to the ruin of all. Yet hope remains while the Company is true. Do not let your hearts be troubled. Go now and rest for you are weary with sorrow and much toil. Tonight, you will sleep in peace.”

I let out all the air I had tensely been holding in, relaxing my shoulders and daring to peek up at the fair face of the lady, chewing on my lower lip. I felt young again, young and foolish, much unlike my past, calm self. It was terrible, I was unsure, unstable. It felt I could no longer make decisions of my own – to be a child once more who needs his mother’s guidance to be successful in life.

Haldir and a few fellow elves led us to the rooms in which we would be staying for the night, not saying a word further in the tongue of mortal men.

Legolas and Aragorn got on will like this, and I was certain Gandalf would have had no issues either – Haldir’s little glances my way, as though I was someone who understood what was being said and was a silent part of the conversation had me feeling uncomfortable and as green as grass. Surely, I had to learn elvish now, there is no way out of it. Excuses could only go so far.

The room I was given was large and bright, filled to the brim with light. I was the last one to be led to the chambers. When Haldir announced something and gestured for me to enter, I smiled tensely and gave him the slightest little bow in an express of thanks. Haldir returned the nod and left, closing the door behind himself.

Relief flooded my body and I fell numbly onto the soft, white bed. Yet sleep did not come easy. Instead, I washed up in the separate little room, taking time to pamper myself as any other woman might – the ones who cared for their cleanliness and appearance at least. Unsure if I should dare walk out of the chamber, I glanced around, running my fingers over all the shiny, beautifully carved curls and twirls of the wooden furniture.

Unable to help myself, I let out a heavy sigh and shook my head, closing my eyes for a second then shrugging and opening the large doors. I stepped out; my feet were bare. Outside there was a guard, but aside from glancing my way warily, he said nothing.

My legs led me to the gardens, watching the glowing trees and tracing their pale bark with my fingertips, humming to myself. This place was just like the imagined land of my childhood when I would sing in choir.

A soft, foreign tongue spoke in the white light, startling me and causing me to stumble.  
“Sorry?” I breathed, turning to face the marchwarden who led us here. “What did you say, my dear? I am afraid I speak not your tongue.”

Surprised, his eyes widened, and his eyebrows rose. “You do not? How could that be?”

My eyes turned to the ground. “I did not grow up with elves.”

“You grew amongst men?” Haldir asked quietly.

Nodding, I turned to him. “Yet I do not remember how I came across the fellowship in that great field.”

The elf said nothing, lost in thought.

“May I ask a favour of you?” I whispered, hopeful.

Haldir paused, glancing at me with undisguised wonder. “What would you like?”

Taking a deep breath, I swallowed and straightened my back slowly. “Could you teach me how to fight while the others rest? I would not wish to burden their already troubled minds with this too for they already protect me. I wish to protect them myself in return.”

“You are selfless, Lady Helethiel.” Haldir nodded. “We have but few hours to train. I will teach you the basics as best as I can.”

“Oh, my dear!” I gasped, heart beating wildly. “You so not know how happy you make me.”

The blond elf only smiled, throwing his hair over his strong shoulder. “Shall we begin?”


End file.
